The Aftermath
by Moonpumpkin
Summary: "So, what? Have you joined the Death Eaters now, too?" James hissed. "Because if you haven't by now, believe me, you're well on your way!" Sirius is ostracized from the Marauders after the Willow Prank, and the whole of Hogwarts feels the effects.
1. Chapter 1

**JK Rowling owns the HP universe and all its characters. I merely play.**

The shock had still not worn off. James was still in utter disbelief at what his best mate had actually done. He just couldn't believe it. This was Sirius—funny, charming, caring, and most of all,_ loyal_ Sirius. Well, so James had thought. Apparently he had thought wrong. James had to admire the fact that Sirius had owned up to it; a lesser man would have put off the confrontation for as long as possible, and avoided the friends he had hurt. But Sirius had always been gutsy. Why else would he be put in Gryffindor? Because as far as James was concerned, after the stunt Sirius had just pulled, he had been wrongly sorted. He shouldn't be in the house of the brave. He should have been in Slytherin, the house for the cunning. Sirius was a Black after all, no matter how much he tried to defy his family.

The four were in the Hospital Wing, surrounded by silence. Remus was glaring at Sirius from his cot, jaw set in fury. Peter's eyes were darting from Remus to Sirius to James to Sirius and then back to Remus, trying to decide what to do. Sirius's hands were shoved deep inside his pockets, and he hung his head, hiding his face behind his bangs. James was lost in his own thoughts, wondering what had happened to the boy in front of them, wondering when he had changed.

Remus was the first to break the silence. "So, you just told him? You told Snape my biggest secret, one that could have gotten him killed and me thrown into Azkaban? Just like that?" Remus looked terrible, the result of spending a full moon alone, something he had not done in years. He had fresh cuts on his arms and a marred ankle that Moony had apparently attempted to gnaw off. Purple bags surrounded sleepless eyes, which were only more noticeable in contrast ghostly pale skin. And his anger at Sirius's actions only seemed to further exhaust him. His amber eyes were burning in anger, desperately trying to understand what had gone through his friend's head.

"I didn't mean—" Sirius started, his voice strained, but Remus stopped him.

"Yes or no. Answer the question, Black."

There was a pause before Sirius whispered a quiet, ashamed, "Yes."

Remus sighed and looked away from him, swallowing heavily. He just couldn't look at the boy he had known for six years, the boy he had confided in for six years, the boy he had loved being friends with for every second of six years. Peter shook his head at Sirius and remained silent, obviously unable to understand how Sirius had let their friend's secret slip. But James—James was absolutely seething.

"So, what? Have you joined the Death Eaters now, too?" he hissed. His former best mate looked up at him with wide eyes, confused and guilty. "Because if you haven't by now, believe me, you're well on your way!"

"James, please, I—" Sirius pleaded, but James would have none of it.

"NO! No, you don't get to talk Black! Because that's exactly what you are—a Black!" Sirius winced and dropped his gaze to the floor as James continued to scream at him. "You're always the one that talks about loyalty and trust and friendship. How have you proved your loyalty, trustworthiness, and friendship lately? By blabbing Remus's secret and almost getting Snape _killed?_"

Suddenly Sirius looked up, clenching his fists, his face flushed with shame. "I never meant for it to get that far!" he shouted over James, effectively silencing him. Sirius took a deep breath and continued in a softer tone. "I'm not trying to make excuses, and I'm sorry. Merlin, I'm so sorry. Believe me; I'm just as disgusted with myself, if not more." James snorted at this but Sirius ignored him and pushed on. "I'm sorry. I was angry and… and I wasn't thinking. I didn't mean for it to get out of hand. It's no excuse, I know, but… that's what happened. I'm sorry," he finished in a whisper.

James growled low in his throat but clenched his jaw to keep it in. Instead, he turned to Remus, raising his eyebrows in question. Sirius shifted his gaze to the bedridden boy as well, straightening his spine in anticipation of his sentence. Remus stared at Sirius hard, holding his breath before sighing and shaking his head, closing his eyes. "That's not good enough. Not nearly." He opened his eyes, his expression sour. "Please," he whispered, "just get out."

Sirius swallowed hard, paler than normal. He shifted his gaze from Remus to Peter to James before dropping his eyes quickly. Nodding stiffly, he backed away slowly, turned, and trudged out of the Hospital Wing. The door made a heavy thudding noise as it shut behind him.

James continued to glare after Sirius. His anger was dissipating, giving way to disappointment. He had thought that Sirius was better than that, that he was different from his parents. How could James have been so blind? Once a Black, always a Black.

A muffled sniff interrupted his thoughts. Turning, he realized it had come from Remus; the lycanthrope had buried his face in his hands, trying to hide tears. Peter sat down on the cot next to him and wrapped an arm around him, but he looked to James with wide eyes, begging for help. "Forget him," James said soothingly, sitting on Remus' other side and placing a hand on his uninjured shin. "He's not worth it."

Remus shook his head and moved his hands from his face to wrap his arms around himself tightly, protectively. He looked small, fragile. James' anger toward Sirius increased tenfold. "I trusted him," Remus managed to choke out. "I trusted him."

**AN: Please review and give me constructive feedback. Updates will be kind of sporadic, but I'll try to be timely**


	2. Chapter 2

Everyone in the castle noticed. While only a select few actually knew the circumstances surrounding the rift in the Marauders, it wasn't difficult to tell that _something_ had happened, and who was at fault. Sirius was rarely seen anymore, and when he was, he kept his head down, only spoke when spoken to, and shuffled out of the room as quickly as possible.

On the occasions he happened to walk into the same room as the other three Marauders, the tension in the air was palpable. Upon seeing them, Sirius would freeze and what little color he had in his face would drain. The chatter in the room would cease, all the students watching the impending interaction with bated breath. James, Remus, and Peter would notice the sudden silence and glance up, noticing their former friend. Remus would drop his gaze quickly, a fierce blush creeping up his neck, and he would hunch more tightly over his book or parchment. Peter's eyes would scan Sirius' face, his expression a strange mix between frustration and pity, before turning to Remus in an attempt to distract him. James would glare defiantly at Sirius, as if daring him to approach them and try to talk. Sirius would then duck his head, shoulders hunched, and he would leave the room without retrieving whatever it was he came in for. Then the whispers would start.

There were several theories circulating about what could have possibly created a schism in such a tightly-knit group of friends. Some believed that Sirius had insulted Lily Evans and James had thrown a fit, but that didn't explain why Remus and Peter were so angry. Others thought that Sirius had tested out a new jinx on one of the Marauders and it had gone awry, but that had happened before—several times—and had never caused any lasting tension. The prevailing theory was that the falling out in itself was a prank the Marauders were playing on the school, though no one could work out what the end result would be. But that idea was eventually thrown out as well; the row had been going on for much too long and each boy looked far too upset for it all to be a rouse.

While it was concerning, the lack of pranks and other antics was actually somewhat welcome at first. The students—and the professors—all knew too well what it felt like to be the butt of a Marauder prank, and the row between them dispelled any and all pranks for its duration. For the first few days, it was pleasant only having to be wary of Peeves. After a week, it was suspicious (this was during the height of the rumor that the fight was a prank).

After two weeks, it was clear that the Marauders truly did have a falling out, and it didn't look to be mended any time soon. A general air of melancholy fell over the castle.

Lily Evans was determined to fix it.

While Lily was often reproached for being nosy and inserting herself in affairs that weren't hers, there was one group she refused to involve herself with more than necessary, and it included one pig-headed arse named James Potter. However, as loathe as she was to admit it, Hogwarts needed the Marauders. The war was getting more and more serious by the day, and their silliness and pranks helped lighten the mood and distract the Hogwarts inhabitants from the turmoil raging outside its walls. The idea that the Marauders, the most tightly-knit group of friends in the castle, could disintegrate left no hope for the rest of the students. Lily knew she had to talk to Sirius, as he was the one who had clearly been ostracized; the problem was that he was impossible to find. Years of dodging Filch, professors, prefects, and Head Boys and Girls had worked to his advantage. Sirius Black was proficient in the art of avoidance.

Lily was patrolling the seventh floor one night—in quite an irritable mood, as she'd caught at least four couples snogging in alcoves and broom closets and one Ravenclaw had given her an attitude when she ordered him back to his Common Room—when she heard a quiet shuffle down the corridor to her left. Huffing, she followed the noise, preparing her usual speech for the student out of bounds. She rounded the corner and immediately jumped back to hide herself, hoping she hadn't been seen. Peeking around the stone, she saw that Sirius was still pacing back and forth, his brow scrunched in deep thought. _What on Earth is he doing?_ she wondered. She was about to reveal herself when she heard the stone wall shifting. Sirius opened his eyes, sighed, and stepped toward the wall and out of her line of sight.

Once sure he was gone, Lily stepped out from around the corner, and found that a large oak door had appeared in the wall. She blinked several times, trying to remember if a door had ever been there before. She was fairly sure it never had; she had patrolled this corridor many times before, and there was only ever stone across from the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy. Hesitantly she approached the door, hoping that it wasn't cursed. She lightly touched the doorknob, and when nothing happened, she gripped it, turned, and pushed the door open.

Inside was a small, sparsely furnished room. It contained a four-poster bed, a small fireplace, a desk and chair, and one Sirius Black. "Evans!" he started, jumping up from his seat on the bed, "how did you get in here?"

Lily was still gazing around herself in wonder—magic never ceased to amaze her—and answered absently, "I followed you."

Sirius huffed, leaning back against the four-poster again. "Figures. I've gotten too used to the cloak," he muttered to himself. Looking up, he asked, "Why're you here, Evans?"

Lily shifted her gaze to Sirius. He hardly looked like himself anymore; he was pale and skinny, his cheeks and eyes somewhat sunken in. His hair was disheveled, but not in his normal I-rolled-out-of-bed-like-this-look-how-sexy-I-am way, more in an I-could-barely-bring-myself-to-get-out-of-bed-let-alone-take-care-of-myself way. His lips were tightly pursed, and his eyes wary. This was not the Sirius Black she knew.

"I want to help," she said softly. She didn't know what to do with her hands; they felt heavy by her side, awkward on her hips, and confrontational crossed over her chest. She eventually settled for clasping them in front of her.

Sirius scoffed. "And how, exactly, do you plan to do that?" he sneered. Lily was vaguely surprised he hadn't tried to deny it. Though, to be fair, she had just caught him sleeping in a secret room rather than his dorm room—it wasn't exactly something he _could_ deny.

Lily opened her mouth and then closed it with a snap. She hadn't exactly thought that far ahead. "Well," she started, waving her hands in an effort to force the right words out, "what did you _do_?" Sirius just shook his head, and frustration bubbled up inside Lily. "Look Black, I can't help you if you won't tell me what caused all of this!"

"That's what started all this in the first place!" Sirius yelled. Lily jumped, caught off guard at the sudden outburst. Sirius had been so reserved lately, and she hadn't expected that kind of emotion from him. He began to pace around the room, talking more to himself than to her. "I wasn't able to keep my stupid mouth shut, and now my friends hate me. James glares at me constantly; I can feel his eyes burning through me anytime I'm anywhere in his line of sight. Peter looks at me like I'm this pitiful thing, like a half-squashed flobberworm or a kicked kneazle. And Remus…Merlin, Remus won't look at me at all, and that's the worst by far." Sirius collapsed back onto the bed facing away from Lily, as if all his energy had been sapped. He remained quiet, fingers clutching at his hair, and ignored Lily's presence.

Lily was at a loss. She sat lightly on the other side of the bed and placed a hand on Sirius' back. He jumped, startled, but didn't pay her any attention otherwise. "I'm sorry," she said quietly.

Sirius dropped his hands to his lap and turned slightly, so half his face was visible but he wasn't really looking at Lily. "Why do you care?"

Lily removed her hand from his back and said honestly, "They're your friends, and it's awful to see you all like this. I mean, I don't know what happened, and I'm not pushing you to tell me," she rushed when Sirius opened his mouth in protest, and even though she did desperately want to know, "but you shouldn't have to hide from them all the time. It just seems like they're punishing you unjustly."

Sirius just shook his head and looked away from her again. "No, they're not. I deserve every bit of it."

Lily thought for a moment. "Have you tried talking to them?" she asked, well aware that it was probably the stupidest question she had asked in all her time at Hogwarts.

Predictably, Sirius nodded. "It didn't go well."

"Have you tried talking to them individually?"

"Evans, please, they're never not together. Merlin," he laughed humorlessly, "were we always like that?" Lily nodded, though he couldn't see. "Anyway," he continued, "they don't want to hear it. They don't want anything to do with me."

"You can't keep living here," she insisted.

"I have been for quite some time and will continue to do so, thank you very much," he responded tersely.

Lily sighed and stood. "I don't know what else to tell you, Black," she said. She started toward the door, but stopped short and turned back to the slumped boy. "Listen, I know they're your best friends, but they're not your only friends. If you ever need to talk or anything…Well, I don't mind."

Feeling sufficiently awkward, Lily left. As she was closing the door behind her, she heard Sirius' quiet voice. "Thank you, Lily."


	3. Chapter 3

Minerva McGonagall had been teaching for a long time. Exactly how long, she didn't like to admit, but in her time at Hogwarts she had seen her fair share of teenage angst. The breakups, the makeups, the gossip, the name-calling: every student went through it, so much so that it wasn't worth it to even try to keep up. And her students often forgot that she, too, was once brimming with the same overabundance of emotions. Throughout her career, Minerva rarely involved herself in such petty matters, unless they were actively disrupting her class. She was not, after all, her students' mother.

Which was why she felt so conflicted over the deep distress she felt when the self-proclaimed "Marauders" shuffled into her classroom, unusually quiet and missing one of their group. The last boy did eventually wander in, dangerously close to being late, and sunk into a seat in the back of the room, far from the others.

Minerva frowned. Of course she knew what had happened between the boys; she had personally scolded Black, harshly, and had been the one to inform Lupin of what transpired that night, gently. Both tasks had been difficult in their own right, and the boys' devastated expressions had been uneasily similar. It was a given that Black's actions had caused a rift in the group—Minerva would have been concerned if it hadn't. This was no simple teenage drama. This was real betrayal.

Perhaps this was why Minerva was so disturbed by the situation—in a group as tight as theirs, she would never have expected that one would wrong another so thoroughly and thoughtlessly. Clearly, neither had they.

Still, Minerva did not like to get involved in disputes between her students. It was not her place. She continued her lecture as usual, as though she did not see Pettigrew glance at Black every few minutes or Potter steadfastly refuse to ignore him. She continued as though she could not notice Lupin staring into the same place on his notebook the entire lecture, unlikely hearing a word she said. She chided Black as she normally would for resting his head on the desk as he pretended to take notes, although she was not as harsh as usual. And she pretended not to notice Lupin flinch and Potter tense at Black's name.

Minerva was more than happy to dismiss the class; tension was not uncommon in her class, intimidated by her as her students were, but she much preferred it when she was the source of discomfort. The students filed out, chattering as they went, but Black hung back, eyeing Lupin, eyes filled with something akin to desperation. Head down, he slipped out the door without a word, smile, or anything resembling his former self.

With the class finally empty, Minerva let out a heavy breath. If she thought those boys were going to give her ulcers before, she could only imagine how her health—and theirs—would fail if this continued. She decided to occupy herself with something more useful, and sat behind her desk to grade the essays her third-years had handed in the previous day. She had only read the name of student on the first essay when she heard shouting in the hallway. Minerva had an idea of what was causing the commotion, and quickly left her classroom in search of the disturbance.

Pushing through the ring of on-looking students, Minerva was unsurprised to find her suspicions confirmed.

"—think you've done enough damage?" Potter raged, throwing yet another curse at his former best friend. Black was defending himself admirably, especially considering Potter was no amateur when it came to duels. Minerva saw Lupin and Pettigrew breaking through crowd across from her, Lupin's shoulders hunched and face read. Pettigrew kept a hand on his back as he quickly escorted him away. "You have some nerve talking to him after what you did, Black!" Potter spit out Black's surname as if it were one of the curses he was currently aiming at him.

Black's face twisted, but remained determined. "Shut your goddamn mouth, Potter," he growled. "Let _him_ curse me if he wants to, he doesn't need you as his keeper—"

"Enough!" Minerva shouted, causing several students to jump. Black looked over at her quickly, too surprised to shield himself from Potter's final stunning spell. The boy was knocked back into the wall, expelling all the air in his lungs. Potter's eyes grew wide, as though he hadn't actually expected to hit him. Minerva stalked forward toward the two, fury in her eyes. "Potter, Black: my office, now." The surrounding students began murmuring to each other, pushing Minerva's anger even further. "The rest of you: I'm taking twenty house points from each person who is not in their next class within two minutes." It was an outrageous demand, one she would not actually enforce, but it had the desired effect. The remaining students scrambled away, leaving Potter and Black fixed in their places. Potter's face was still flushed in anger, but he refused to look up from the floor. Without her prompting, he stalked into her classroom, hands clenched at his side. Black, his breath back, followed morosely.

Minerva sat down behind her desk, and conjured an extra chair so that there were two facing her. Potter dropped into one with a huff, and Black gingerly lowered himself into the other. Neither would look at the other or their professor. Minerva regarded them both coolly. "I realize the…situation you both are in, and that emotions are running high, but I will not tolerate dueling in the corridors."

Black scoffed, mumbling, "He started it."

Potter's face became beet red once again. Turning to Black, he spat, "Oh, you really want to argue that _I_ started it?"

"I just wanted to talk to Remus—"

"Remus doesn't want to talk to you!"

Black gritted and bared his teeth in anger. It was the first emotion besides sadness Minerva had seen on his features in a month. "Potter," he hissed, "he's the one I hurt, not you. This has nothing to do with you—"

"You think this has nothing to do with me?" Potter asked incredulously.

Black's face soured. "You're so fucking self-centered—"

"You did hurt me, you twat!"

The silence that followed was heavy. Black blanched and pressed his lips together. He furrowed his brow, started, stopped, and started again. "I'm sorry," he whispered hoarsely. "I don't know how to fix it. I want to, desperately, but I just…don't know how." He looked up at Potter. "And you won't give me the chance."

Potter looked away, clearly still unwilling to do as Black said. Minerva, who had felt invisible for the past few minutes, felt it was up to her to voice something that was faulty in both their arguments. "What about Lupin?" Both boys' heads jerked toward her, having forgotten the reason they were together in this office in the first place. "You're both hurting, clearly, and you clearly know that Lupin is hurting as well," she explained. "But in an attempt to alleviate your own pain, neither one of you are thinking about how you're affecting Lupin."

Potter ruffled. "That's not true, I'm keeping him away from _him_," he sneered.

"Yes, but you're causing scenes like you just did today," Minerva pointed out. Potter opened his mouth but no defense came out. "Your anger, while understandable, is not helpful." Potter had the good grace to look ashamed. "You're allowed to be angry, but not all the time. Otherwise you'll never move on, and neither will Lupin. You'll all be miserable until you graduate."

"What do you mean, 'move on'?" Potter asked, indignant. "I can't forgive him for what he did," he said of Black, as if he weren't there.

"I did not say that moving on necessarily entailed forgiveness," Minerva pointed out. Shifting her gaze to Black, she continued, "Which is something you may have to come to terms with, Black." At this, the boy shrank into himself in his seat.

Neither student said anything more. "I'm taking fifty points from each of you for dueling. It will not happen again," Minerva said, leaving no room for interpretation or argument. She turned to Potter. "Potter, you are free to go. Black, I want you to stay a few minutes more." Potter shot a sideways glance at Black before rising from his chair and leaving the room quietly.

Black remained hunched in his chair, eyes lowered, trying to make himself small. Minerva took the plate of biscuits on her desk and held them out to him. Black looked up at her offering skeptically. "Professor?" he asked.

"Have a biscuit, Black," Minerva said. "I know you haven't been eating lately." Black hesitated for a moment before reaching over to take the pastry on top. He nibbled on it uncertainly at first; suddenly, his hunger must have caught up with him because he scarfed down the rest. When he finished, Minerva gestured to the plate, and he took another, a pink tinge appearing on the tips of his ears.

"I know the past few weeks can't have been easy on you, Black," she started. Black looked up at her and swallowed the food in his mouth heavily. "Are you…well, to put it bluntly, are you doing alright?" She knew it was a stupid question, but she was unsure of how else to phrase it.

Black looked guarded. "Why?"

Minerva wrinkled her brow in confusion. "Why what?"

"Why are you talking to me?"

Minerva pursed her lips. "Well, I assume no one has really talked to you in the past month. It must be difficult." She paused. "You don't have to talk to me, of course. You're free to leave if you'd like."

Black didn't budge. After a long moment, he murmured, "Lily Evans talks to me sometimes."

Minerva smiled. "Evans is a kind girl."

Black nodded slowly. "I've told her not to though. James would get angry. Well," he half laughed, "angrier."

He sighed heavily, wiping at the crumbs around his mouth. "Sometimes…" he started. He sat back in the chair, looking far away. "I feel like I'm drowning and sometimes I wonder whether it would be easier to just…drown. Y'know, not fight it, let it happen." He shook his head almost imperceptivity. "I've done enough damage as it is," he said, mirroring Potter's words from earlier.

A small smile graced Minerva's face. "Sirius," she started, gaining his attention with his first name; she imagined he hadn't heard it in quite some time, had only been addressed by the name he hated. It worked—his eyes snapped to hers, almost child-like. "Don't you dare give up."

Black continued to stare at her in wonder, until slowly, slowly, a smile spread across his features. He nodded, rubbing at his face. "Yeah," he whispered. "Yeah. I won't."

"Good," Minerva said. "Now, you need to be getting to your next class; I'll write you a pass."

Black shook his head, his smile turning into the ghost of a wicked grin. "It's Binns—he won't notice."

Minerva nodded her head, conceding. Black rose from the chair and made his way toward the door. "Black," she called out as he reached the door. He turned around, eyebrows raised in question. "Make sure to pay attention next class."

The boy nodded earnestly, his smile unwavering now that his muscles remembered how. "Of course, Professor." She waved her hand at him and he disappeared through the door.

No, Minerva McGonagall preferred not to involve herself in her students' personal matters. Anyway, they could usually resolve their issues on their own. She wasn't completely cold, however; she hated to admit it, but she did have soft spots. And anyway, just because she was not her students' mother did not mean they were not her children.


End file.
